Better stop short than fill to the brim.
Oversharpen the blade, and the edge will soon blunt.
Amass a store of gold and jade, and no one can protect it.
Claim wealth and titles, and disaster will follow.
Retire when the work is done.
This is the way of heaven.
- Lao-Tzu. Tao Te Ching, Chapter Nine.
January 15, 1945
The President-Elect waved from the car to the cheering crowds at the inaugural parade. He smiled enthusiastically to them. Of course Robert Alphonso Taft was happy to have won the election, but his mind was not on the spectacle or the honors, not now. Taft had never loved the celebrity of being a President's son. When he was nineteen years old, young Robert went to the train station in Washington to greet his father, the sitting President of the United States, who was returning to the capital after a trip out West. At the station, as the president's train arrived, the stationmaster shouted to Robert, not knowing who he was speaking to. "You'll have to get back, young fellow," he told the President's son. "This space is reserved for officials who are meeting the President." Rather than arguing, announcing himself and acting infuriated that the stationmaster did not know who he was, Taft calmly stepped back, into the small watching crowd. When William Howard Taft and his retinue arrived, they had to search through the crowd to find the President's son.
That story would have shocked his fellow Senators. Taft, immediately after winning election to the Senate, seized a major role for himself, grabbing media attention with his speeches and aggressively bucking the seniority rules to advance his legislative agenda. The Ohioan Senator's enthusiasm and his intellect dominated any debate. He became, more than anyone, the leader of the opposition in the Senate. Without a formal leadership role, he was the one people turned to to hear the rebuttal of the majority's left-wing agenda. He was the one the media and the public and even his fellow politicians turned to when they wanted to hear the counter-argument from the right. He shrouded himself in an aura of gravitas. When Taft spoke, he spoke as if he were a long-time Senator, someone who had been serving in office since the 1920s, a senior statesman. In 1944, he convinced the people of the United States that with one term in the Senate, he was more qualified and suited for the office than his opponent who had been in the Senate and Vice Presidency for nearly two decades.
The fact of the matter was that while Taft did not like confrontation and while he did not like celebrity, neither did he fear them. He knew how to use the media, and he'd learned in his presidential campaign how to speak to the public. Young Robert Taft hadn't confronted the stationmaster at the train station not because he was shy, but because he deemed the matter unimportant. He was delayed greeting his father by a couple minutes; nothing worth starting an argument over. Even then, he did not value wasting his time. Taft chose his battles; he never fought when not necessary.
The people wanted to see their President, they wanted to be happy and optimistic, and Taft knew the country needed a sense of optimistic unity. So he waved out of the car and smiled at the people. He stood next to his sons and President LaGuardia and former President Miller on the cold winter day as he placed his hand on a book of constitutional law held up by his wife Martha, and gave the presidential oath of office to Chief Justice Earl Warren. Only one other son of a President, John Quincy Adams, ever achieved the same office his father had held.
On the cold January day, Taft turned to the waiting crowd, with his voice carried across the country on the radio stations. The inauguration was taped, and the image of the president was played in movie theaters across the country, with some lucky areas, such as the New York area or the Chicago area, even playing the speech on the newly set up television stations. "I have made an oath before you, to preserve, protect, and defend the Constitution of the United States. Yet I am merely a man, and no honor or title can change that fact. I alone cannot bring unity; I alone cannot preserve liberty. You, the American people, and you alone hold power in this country. Together, let us unite as one country. Together, let us preserve the Constitution. Together, let us secure the blessings of liberty, for ourselves, for our children, and for all the ages of the world."
Taft went to the festivities that night. Bob Taft was not Bill Taft. The older president had been a huge friendly man, his great size matching his loud voice and his big heart. The first Taft was truly a sociable "people person". His son was not, but Robert still went to the post-inaugural parties. He joined in the festivities because he needed to, because that was how Washington worked. He stood next to his Vice President as Leverett Saltonstall gave energetic toasts. He shook hands enthusiastically with his new cabinet and his advisors, with Howard Buffet and Herbert Hoover and Thomas Dewey and all the rest because he needed their good relations going forward.
From the time he was waving to the crowds to the end of the festivities, Taft was only going through the motions. His thoughts were elsewhere. His mind was on the wars, on the economy, on the legislative proposals before Congress he needed to steer through, on the political calculations, and on the complex foreign policy situation. Taft, the calm Constitutionalist, ran for president because he wanted power. He loved policy; he was a detail-oriented intellectual. The President, more than any Senator, could truly shape the government and the law. Some men were born for politics, but Taft was truly born for governance.
Things had quieted down by the night, as Taft pushed his wife in her wheelchair around their new home. "I wish my father could see another Taft in the White House," he said quietly to Martha.
"He would be so proud," she replied. "I know he would."
"You know he'd have wanted me to be on the Supreme Court instead," Robert said and they laughed.
"Does it look the same as you remember?" Martha asked.
"Overall," Taft responded. "LaGuardia renovated it, it was getting quite old, some parts were in bad condition." For a minute, he walked in silence, rolling the chair along. Then he spoke again, "My father would be proud, but he would also tell me that winning the election was only the beginning. We have a long four years ahead of us. It will be very difficult Martha. I won't be able to do it alone. I'll need you."
She reached up to the handle, putting her hand on her husband's. "I'll be there with you Bob," she told him. "Every step of the way, for all eight years."
The two held hands in silence for a minute, gaining strength from the other's presence. The road ahead was difficult, but they were ready.
Oversharpen the blade, and the edge will soon blunt.
Amass a store of gold and jade, and no one can protect it.
Claim wealth and titles, and disaster will follow.
Retire when the work is done.
This is the way of heaven.
- Lao-Tzu. Tao Te Ching, Chapter Nine.
President William H. Taft said:
Presenting the sequel to The Ruins of An American Party System, Part One: Implosion, winner of the 2015 Turtledove for Best New Early 20th Century Timeline, and The Ruins of An American Party System, Part Two: Collision:
The Ruins of an American Party System, Part Three:
Revolution
The Ruins of an American Party System, Part Three:
Revolution
January 15, 1945
The President-Elect waved from the car to the cheering crowds at the inaugural parade. He smiled enthusiastically to them. Of course Robert Alphonso Taft was happy to have won the election, but his mind was not on the spectacle or the honors, not now. Taft had never loved the celebrity of being a President's son. When he was nineteen years old, young Robert went to the train station in Washington to greet his father, the sitting President of the United States, who was returning to the capital after a trip out West. At the station, as the president's train arrived, the stationmaster shouted to Robert, not knowing who he was speaking to. "You'll have to get back, young fellow," he told the President's son. "This space is reserved for officials who are meeting the President." Rather than arguing, announcing himself and acting infuriated that the stationmaster did not know who he was, Taft calmly stepped back, into the small watching crowd. When William Howard Taft and his retinue arrived, they had to search through the crowd to find the President's son.
That story would have shocked his fellow Senators. Taft, immediately after winning election to the Senate, seized a major role for himself, grabbing media attention with his speeches and aggressively bucking the seniority rules to advance his legislative agenda. The Ohioan Senator's enthusiasm and his intellect dominated any debate. He became, more than anyone, the leader of the opposition in the Senate. Without a formal leadership role, he was the one people turned to to hear the rebuttal of the majority's left-wing agenda. He was the one the media and the public and even his fellow politicians turned to when they wanted to hear the counter-argument from the right. He shrouded himself in an aura of gravitas. When Taft spoke, he spoke as if he were a long-time Senator, someone who had been serving in office since the 1920s, a senior statesman. In 1944, he convinced the people of the United States that with one term in the Senate, he was more qualified and suited for the office than his opponent who had been in the Senate and Vice Presidency for nearly two decades.
The fact of the matter was that while Taft did not like confrontation and while he did not like celebrity, neither did he fear them. He knew how to use the media, and he'd learned in his presidential campaign how to speak to the public. Young Robert Taft hadn't confronted the stationmaster at the train station not because he was shy, but because he deemed the matter unimportant. He was delayed greeting his father by a couple minutes; nothing worth starting an argument over. Even then, he did not value wasting his time. Taft chose his battles; he never fought when not necessary.
The people wanted to see their President, they wanted to be happy and optimistic, and Taft knew the country needed a sense of optimistic unity. So he waved out of the car and smiled at the people. He stood next to his sons and President LaGuardia and former President Miller on the cold winter day as he placed his hand on a book of constitutional law held up by his wife Martha, and gave the presidential oath of office to Chief Justice Earl Warren. Only one other son of a President, John Quincy Adams, ever achieved the same office his father had held.
On the cold January day, Taft turned to the waiting crowd, with his voice carried across the country on the radio stations. The inauguration was taped, and the image of the president was played in movie theaters across the country, with some lucky areas, such as the New York area or the Chicago area, even playing the speech on the newly set up television stations. "I have made an oath before you, to preserve, protect, and defend the Constitution of the United States. Yet I am merely a man, and no honor or title can change that fact. I alone cannot bring unity; I alone cannot preserve liberty. You, the American people, and you alone hold power in this country. Together, let us unite as one country. Together, let us preserve the Constitution. Together, let us secure the blessings of liberty, for ourselves, for our children, and for all the ages of the world."
Taft went to the festivities that night. Bob Taft was not Bill Taft. The older president had been a huge friendly man, his great size matching his loud voice and his big heart. The first Taft was truly a sociable "people person". His son was not, but Robert still went to the post-inaugural parties. He joined in the festivities because he needed to, because that was how Washington worked. He stood next to his Vice President as Leverett Saltonstall gave energetic toasts. He shook hands enthusiastically with his new cabinet and his advisors, with Howard Buffet and Herbert Hoover and Thomas Dewey and all the rest because he needed their good relations going forward.
From the time he was waving to the crowds to the end of the festivities, Taft was only going through the motions. His thoughts were elsewhere. His mind was on the wars, on the economy, on the legislative proposals before Congress he needed to steer through, on the political calculations, and on the complex foreign policy situation. Taft, the calm Constitutionalist, ran for president because he wanted power. He loved policy; he was a detail-oriented intellectual. The President, more than any Senator, could truly shape the government and the law. Some men were born for politics, but Taft was truly born for governance.
Things had quieted down by the night, as Taft pushed his wife in her wheelchair around their new home. "I wish my father could see another Taft in the White House," he said quietly to Martha.
"He would be so proud," she replied. "I know he would."
"You know he'd have wanted me to be on the Supreme Court instead," Robert said and they laughed.
"Does it look the same as you remember?" Martha asked.
"Overall," Taft responded. "LaGuardia renovated it, it was getting quite old, some parts were in bad condition." For a minute, he walked in silence, rolling the chair along. Then he spoke again, "My father would be proud, but he would also tell me that winning the election was only the beginning. We have a long four years ahead of us. It will be very difficult Martha. I won't be able to do it alone. I'll need you."
She reached up to the handle, putting her hand on her husband's. "I'll be there with you Bob," she told him. "Every step of the way, for all eight years."
The two held hands in silence for a minute, gaining strength from the other's presence. The road ahead was difficult, but they were ready.
